gathered an armful and headed for the garage. She wouldn’t be needing them anymore. Jake was gone and so was her dream of a baby. She made three trips to dump the magazines in the garbage.
With the last few in her hands, she straightened to see Derek’s picture on the nightstand. Suddenly Jake’s words echoed through her head. “How do you think it makes me feel to make love to you with his picture on your nightstand? You should’ve had enough consideration for my feelings to remove it. You’ve never considered my feelings or much of anything else where I’m concerned.”
Oh my God. The magazines dropped to the floor at her feet as a fog lifted from her mind and she could see her insensitive actions clearly. Oh my God. Her legs trembled and she sank onto the bed. What had she done? Up until this very moment, she had never seen anything wrong with having Derek’s picture in their bedroom. And it was very wrong. She could see that now. Why couldn’t she before? Maybe she was more like her mother and Judith than she’d ever imagined, because the insensitivity of her own behavior bordered on cruelty. Yet Jake had never said a word until yesterday. Why not? He wanted a child as much as she did; that was the only reason that made sense. And now he had a child—a little boy named Ben. She wondered if Jake had seen his son. What was Ben like?
Tears welled up but she refused to cry. She couldn’t. She had a class to teach and she had to get moving, although her body wasn’t cooperating. All she could see was Jake’s face, and she knew she had to apologize. But how could she explain the mental fog she’d been in? By being honest. Years of grieving had clouded her thinking. Jake’s words had brought her to her senses.
She stood and turned Derek’s picture facedown. He was dead. She had to accept that, as Jake had said, and she had to get on with her life…a life without Jake…or a baby. She picked up her purse and walked toward the door, trying not to think about Jake. But she knew he’d be in her every thought.
JAKE THOUGHT THE SITUATION OVER. He now knew what Ms. Woods had been hiding—Ben was not a normal little boy. His mind reeled from the revelation and he tried to stay focused on the main objective. The Fosters wanted to adopt his son—a son who had problems, severe problems. As easy as that would make his life, he couldn’t even consider the possibility. Ben was his flesh and blood, and even though he’d need special attention, Jake would do everything he could to be the boy’s father. Because he was.
He decided he needed a lawyer. If he had to fight for custody of Ben, he’d need a good one. He drove straight to Beau’s office. Beau specialized in family law and Jake knew his brother could help him, give him some advice. He’d never been to Beau’s office, since Beau always visited him at the farm. They met for dinner every now and then, but other than that, they had very little contact. Jake knew that was his fault. He couldn’t face seeing his mother.
He located Beau’s office on the fourth floor of a tall glass structure. A young woman at the reception desk smiled at him as he entered.
“I’d like to see Beau McCain, please,” he said.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked politely.
“No.”
She flipped through a book. “He has an opening on Friday at two.”
Jake frowned. “I need to see him now.”
“He’s with someone and—”
Her words faded away as Jake headed down the hall to find Beau.
“Come back here.” The young woman ran after him, but Jake didn’t stop. He heard Beau’s voice, tapped on the door and went in.
As he did, his stomach caved in with such force that it cut off his breathing. His mother was there talking to Beau. He hadn’t seen her in twenty-eight years—not since the day she’d left the farm and him behind. He’d made a point of not seeing her, of not having anything to do with her, and he’d succeeded until today.
Just like that, his childhood flashed through his mind, his mother reading to him, singing to him, kissing his forehead, patiently helping him with homework, and from out of nowhere the taste of her cinnamon rolls made his mouth water. Then just as quickly those good feelings slammed into a wall of pure pain—the pain of her betrayal—and that was all he felt. All he could remember.
“Mr. McCain, I tried to stop him.” Numbly the receptionist’s voice penetrated his mind.
“It’s okay, Cindy,” Beau said as he came around his desk. “I’ll take care of this.”
Jake wanted to turn and leave, but his feet wouldn’t move. When he was younger, he used to dream of things he’d say to his mother if he ever saw her again, but those words were locked away so deep, under layers of heartache and resentment, that he couldn’t dredge them up.
Almost in slow motion he watched his mother get up from the chair and walk toward him. The pain in his chest intensified and he was beyond thinking. Don’t speak to me, screamed through his head.
But her words came as soft and sweet as he remembered. “I was just leaving. It’s good to see you, Jake.” She stared at him a moment before walking out the door.
She didn’t look any older than she had years ago, Jake thought inanely, except for the gray in her hair.
Beau closed the door and glared at Jake. “Would it have killed you to say hello?”
Jake was still having a hard time finding his voice.
“When are you going to let go of the past?” Beau snapped.
Air swished back into Jake’s lungs. “Some things can’t be forgiven.”
“Like what?”
“Like a mother leaving a ten-year-old boy.”
Beau shook his head. “You have a convenient memory, Jake. You refused to go with us. Remember?”
He remembered it vividly. His mother begging and pleading with him, but his father had already told him what she’d done. She was leaving him for Andrew Wellman. “I remember a lot of things,” he said harshly.
“Do you remember Mom had custody and could have forced you to go, but she didn’t? She knew how much you loved the old man and how loyal you were to him. In the end, she couldn’t hurt you anymore. She let you stay and I don’t think she’s ever forgiven herself for that.”
Jake had had all he could take. “She chose to leave. I remember that. Or is your memory convenient, too?”
Beau threw up his hands. “What do you want, Jake? I’m tired of talking to a stone wall.”
Ben—he was here about Ben. For a paralyzing moment he’d forgotten that. Now he wasn’t sure if he wanted Beau to help him or not. Too much tension existed between them, and he needed someone willing to fight for him. Was Beau that person?
“Since you’ve never been to my office before it must be important,” Beau said, moving back to his desk.
“Yes, it is,” Jake admitted. “But I’m having second thoughts now.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s awkward.”
“I don’t feel awkward. Do you?”
Jake didn’t answer as he took the seat his mother had vacated. Awkwardness or tension didn’t matter. What mattered was his son. He told Beau about Ben.
Beau eyes widened. “You have a son?”
“Yes, and the Fosters, the people caring for him, want to adopt him.”
“How bad is Ben’s health?”
“I’m hoping to meet him this afternoon and determine that for myself. Ms. Woods is trying to set it up and from what she’s said, Ben needs lots of care and attention.”
“And you’re willing to do that?”
“Of course I am. He’s my